Too Long in Winter
by Greta Geisel
Summary: This story takes place after the fire. Erik first has to face the ghosts of his past before he can move on and perhaps find love. This is my first story so be kind but honest.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the many adaptations of Phantom of the Opera. The only characters I own are the original characters found in this story.

Prologue:

He slowly made his way from the shadows towards the ruin that was once the Opera Populaire. The crowds of people that engulfed the square had long ago dispersed, having retreated to the safety and security of their homes. Home. Home was something he no longer had, he thought to himself as he stood watching the sun rise over the smoldering ruins. He destroyed everything in the vain attempt to gain the love of a woman. His Christine. No, not his Christine, not any longer. She was never was his. He realized this when she placed that fateful kiss upon his lips. There was no love behind that kiss only a desperation so strong it stunned him. He was so blinded by his obsession for Christine, for that was all that it was. It was not love but obsession with what he wanted to be love. He did not realize the consequences of his actions until it was too late. Everything was now destroyed. Not just for him but for everyone that had called the Opera House home. How many lives had he destroyed to obtain that which was beyond his reach? So lost in his own thoughts, he failed to hear the footsteps approach behind him until the owner of those footsteps spoke.

"It is not safe here, Erik." Erik turned sharply to see the figure of his old friend Nadir.

"What do you want old man. Have you come to see me utterly humiliated." Erik said sharply.

"No my friend. Now is not the time. Come, we must be away from here before the police arrive to investigate." Nadir stepped forward as Erik turned back to look at his former home.

"I have nothing left Nadir. My home, my life's work, my music, everything is gone."

Nadir looked at the man that he saw as a friend despite the many differences between the two men. It was clear to Nadir that a dark melancholy threatened to overtake his friend. And that was not acceptable to Nadir. Erik could offer so much to this world, his genius was something Nadir sought to protect ever since their time in Persia.

It was a few minutes before Nadir spoke again. "No Erik. Everything is not gone. You still have something."

"And what is that, Daroga."

"A chance to start over."


	2. Chapter 1: The first step

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the many adaptations of Phantom of the Opera. The only characters I own are the original characters found in this story.

Sorry about the delay. For some reason my computer would not upload the next chapter properly. My muse has decided before running off to chase the ice cream truck that Erik needs to first face his past before he can move on. This story is going to be heavily based on Kay's Novel with some elements from the 2004 movie.

Chapter 1: The First Step:

Erik's POV

"_No Erik. Everything is not gone. You still have something."_

"_And what is that, Daroga."_

"_A chance to start over."_

Nadir's words still echoed in my mind, leaving me with no peace and making sleep impossible. I lay in bed wondering what the next step is. How in the hell am I supposed to start over? It's not like I can go into the nearest opera house and ask for a job. Besides it would seem that the music that has filled my life is now silent. It has been six weeks since the fire. Not once in those six weeks has a melody been heard in my mind. My music has abandoned me. Not only did she take my heart with her but did she have to take my music as well and leave me but an empty shell.

Deciding that attempting sleep at this point is anything but fruitless, I make my way over to my window. I looked down at the nearly empty streets below the tiny apartment I am now sharing with Nadir on the outskirts of Paris. The streets are relatively quiet, with only a few vagrants no doubt wandering home from the local bars or brothels. Taking out my pocket watch, I notice it is not as late as I hoped. It was only half past midnight. Sighing, I run my hands through my hair. I turn to look at the room I am now forced to live in. It is as bleak and melancholy as its occupant. Nothing like the opulence and grandeur of the opera house of which I had become accostumed. Suddenly the air in the room becomes stuffy and hot, I feel like I am suffocating in this tiny room. I can't stand this any longer, I need to get out of here for awhile. I make my way to the nightstand to retrieve my mask when I realize that I no longer have it. I had left it behind when I had fled from the opera house. I growl in frustration. I really have to make myself a new one but have lacked the ambition to do so. The hood of my cloak will have to do for now. As long as I stay in the shadows I should be fine.

Not really knowing where I am going, I quietly leave the apartment hoping not to wake Nadir. The poor man still worries that the police are still looking for me despite the fact that the police already have declared me dead and are no longer scouring Paris for my whereabouts. Well at least they declared the body they found within my passageways as being dead. The body was that of a stagehand that died in the fire which I left within one of the many passages surrounding my old home, dressed in my costume and mask from Don Juan. I hoped that this would at least give Christine and the fop some peace of mind. If I couldn't have peace then maybe they could.

Not paying attention to where my feet where leading me, I shouldn't have been surprised to find myself a few blocks away from the now former Opera Populaire. My subconscious mind choosing to torment me still. How can I move forward when the ghosts of my past keep haunting me. Not wanting to continue down this path I turn to head back to my apartment when I happened to notice a light coming from a boarding house across the street. I can see the silhouette of a an older woman pacing in front of an open window. The figure seemed vaguely familiar to me, but deciding to linger no longer I start walking down the street only to be stopped in my tracks by the sounds of a very familiar voice. What twist of fate had placed me outside of Madame Giry's door. I look up at the figure in the window once again from the shadows and I can see her clearly now, her face lined with worry as she paces back and forth in front of the window. Part of me was still angry at her for betraying me and helping de Chagney find his way to my home that night. Another part of me however is relieved to discover that she had escaped the fire. Despite everything, I still looked upon her as a surrogate mother. I was too scared to think about what fate had befallen her that night. Many times in the past couple of weeks I had been tempted to ask Nadir to seek her out but had chickened out every time. Looking up at Madame Giry, I realized she was alone. Where was little Meg, the annoying ballet rat that I fondly looked upon as a younger sister. I had promised Madame Giry that I would look after and protect her. Had she too been spared or had I destroyed yet more lives with my carelessness.

There was only one way to find out. I had to take the first step. The first step towards laying my ghosts to rest. With a deep breath, I made my way across the street.


	3. Chapter 2: An overdue conversation

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the many adaptations of Phantom of the Opera. The only characters I own are the original characters found in this story.

Chapter 2: An overdue conversation.

I made my way across the street and down the narrow alleyway alongside the boarding house. I slowly made my way up the fire escape to the second story. Peering into the window, I looked into a bedchamber, a small figure is curled up upon the bed, snoring slightly. As I look closer, I can tell it is the figure of little Meg. A wave of relief flooded through me. She was safe. She was safe. I repeated this over and over to myself. I looked around the small room and guilt seemed to settle in the pit of my stomach. I was responsible for this. The tiny bedchamber was cramped, two beds lay side by side with a worn nightstand between the two. The paint was peeling in the corner and the ceiling was littered with water stains. Had I reduced them to this. They were safe but for how long? How could I possibly make this right?

I quietly climbed through the open window, careful not to wake Meg. I stopped and listened before opening the door. I can hear Madame Giry still pacing in the next room. Silently I open the door and from years of practice, I soundlessly step into the shadows of the hallway. I stood for several minutes watching her pace across the living room. She wore a simple gray dressing gown, her hair still pulled back into a severe looking bun and her face lined with not only age but worry. I watch as she finally takes a seat at the small table beside the window and studies the papers that are scattered across the table. After a few moments, her voice breaks the silence of the night.

"Are you going to lurk in the shadows all night staring or would you like to join in a cup of tea." She says as looks over to the corner where I am standing.

"You always seem to sense my presence, even when others could not." I said, the shock clear in my voice. I wondered if she could have also seen it in my face had I not been standing in the shadows. Laughing, Madame Giry gets up from the table and enters the small kitchen putting a small teapot on the stove. Making sure my hood is still covering my face, I step from the shadows.

"Have a seat Erik, I have a feeling the night is far from over."

I take a seat at the table, Madame Giry places the tea in front of me and then takes the seat across from me. For a few minutes neither one of us speaks, each of us content to let silence linger between us. Breaking first, unable to stand the silence any longer, for the weight of my sins weigh heavily upon me. I take the first step in what promises to be an unpleasant conversation.

"I am sorry Madame Giry. Sorry for everything I have put you through." I was surprised those words had crossed my lips. It was rare for me to admit when I was wrong. I could count only a handful of times I had said those words out loud. Madame Giry looks at me form across the table. Placing her cup down, she raises her eyebrows peering over her eyeglasses at me.

"So you should be but it puts my heart at ease that you are. I was beginning to believe that you had gone too far and would not be able to come back from the madness that had consumed you." I was not expecting that. I had expected to see hatred, anger or pity even. I had destroyed her home, could have gotten her and her daughter killed in my madness. Unable to look at her any longer, I look down and begin studying the pattern decorating my teacup. She moves to stand by the window.

"I have failed you Erik."

Looking up I try to contradict her. "Madame Giry, It was I ..." Cutting me off, she turns and places her hand on top of mine.

"Erik, you were so young when you came to Paris. Too young to isolate yourself from the world. I thought that Christine could bring out the amazing young man I know lies within you." I scoff at this but Madame Giry meerly sighs and continues on.

"I failed to see what was happening. I so wanted you to be happy. I thought that a friendship between to lost souls would accomplish this. I in fact encouraged it. I had hoped that you would emerge from the make believe world you had created for yourself beneath the Opera House. But I failed to notice that Christine was too naive to the ways of the world to begin to understand the man that lies behind the mask. I won't pretend to understand everything that you have had to endure in this world either Erik but I had high hopes for you. You can accomplish so much Erik if you would only end your self imposed isolation and put your past behind you."

I looked up at her and wondered how she could see something that I could not. With everything I had done in my life. I had lost count of the number of deaths I could be held accountable for. How many had died by my hand or by the products of my deranged genius in Persia. I am not the man that Madame Giry sees.

"I believe you are losing your eyesight or your mind if you believe I capable of anything good. I cause either pain or death wherever I go." I moved to take my leave when Madame Giry places her hand upon my shoulder. I turn and glare at her.

"Erik that is nonsense." She reluctantly moves her hand and I stand up putting some distance between us.

"As you said Madame, You could not begin to understand what I have to endure in this cursed existence." How could she understand the depravity that her fellow mankind is capable of. Maybe coming here had been a mistake, maybe I didn't deserve a chance for forgiveness. Some how Madame Giry knew what I was thinking.

"Everyone deserves a chance at forgiveness Erik." I turn and look at her, trying to fight back the tears that I know are threatening to come.

"How could anyone forgive me. Tell me Madame Giry, how can anyone forgive the things I have done. Tell me how I can forgive those that have wronged me." Madame Giry slowly made her way over to me and did something no one had ever done that I did not even see it coming. She placed her arms around me and hugged me. Nobody had ever willingly done this before. It was too much for me. I broke down and the tears now came freely. I clung to Madame Giry and cried. While I cried I told her everything about my past, the mistakes, the pain and humiliation – all of it. Madame Giry simply held me, comforting me as if I was a small child until their was no more tears left. When I was done, I looked at her now embarrassed over my childish display. It was then that I had realized my hood at fallen away from my face. When I moved to hide my face, she placed her hand upon my cheek and turned my face back towards her.

"This is nothing to be ashamed of, there is no reason to hide." I wanted to believe her but years of being called a monster or devil's child made it hard.

"I believe the world would disagree with you Madame."

That may be Erik, but only you need to believe."


	4. Chapter 3: A place to start

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the many adaptations of Phantom of the Opera. The only characters I own are the original characters found in this story.

Chapter 3:

I found myself with a renewed purpose and strangely with quite a bit of confusion as I left Madame Giry's flat. Madame Giry and Meg had the promise of good future ahead of them. I wasn't sure what I was going to do next but I knew that in order to lay my ghosts to rest I would need to face things that I wasn't so sure I could. I had spent my life running from them or ignoring them all together. My conversation with Madame Giry though unexpected had exposed some hard truths that up until now I was not ready to face. With her help I was able to take the first step. I was able to speak of things I had never spoken of before, not even with Nadir. I told her everything about my time with the gypsies, my life with my mother, my apprenticeship with Giovanni, Luciana's death and about my time in service to the Shah in Persia. I had expected her to recoil in fear and disgust but she simply listened to me, never once judging my actions. I expressed to her my concerns about attempting a normal life. I was not used to failure and failure was the only ending I could see for this endeavor.

(flashback)

"_Erik, I believe in you and your friend Monsieur Khan obviously believes in you as well. Otherwise he would have condemned you long ago in Persia. Instead he helped you escape when he was sent by the Shah to arrest you. He risked everything he had to save your life. He sees in you the potential to do good and so do I."_

"_How can you see this when I cannot Madame Giry." _

"_Erik, often we are only able to see those things about ourselves that society wants us to see. For a long time you were only shown the bad, never the good within you. That side was exploited and manipulated by others. We are neither good nor bad but both. It is our actions that decide what we are. Only you can decide what you are."_

"_You have given my a lot to think about. The hour grows late, I should leave you now." I turned to leave but was stopped by Madame Giry._

"_Oh Erik, I almost forgot. I have something for you before you go." I watched as she hurried over to a chest sitting in the corner of the room. She handed me a bundle that was carefully wrapped._

"_These are some things of yours that I was able to salvage after the fire. I kept them safe for you. I thought you would like to have them when you returned." I merely looked at her, raising an eyebrow._

"_I didn't believe that nonsense about you being dead. Those police are nothing but bumbling buffoons. They are no match for your intelligence. Tell me Erik, what are you going to do now?"_

"_I am not sure but I know staying in Paris is no longer an option. This part of my life is now over. I need to put to rest the ghosts of my past before I can move forward. I can not do that here."_

_Then in your travels, maybe you can find time to visit me and Meg in Italy."_

_Italy?! I thought. The look on my face must have been humorous because with a laugh Madame Giry says " Yes Erik, Italy. Meg has been offered a spot as Prima Ballerina. It would seem that a manager from an Opera House in was quite impressed with my little Meg. We leave in two weeks time."_

"_Until then Madame Giry, Good luck to you and Meg."_

_(end flashback)_

With that I had turned and left. I wasn't certain if I would take her up on her offer. I had no clue where this journey I seem to be on would take me. I did not know what my next step was.

The sun had started to rise as I reached the steps to Nadir's apartment. Any hopes of my absence going unnoticed was in vain as I noticed a light on in the parlor. I was too exhausted both mentally and physically to deal with the interrogation I know that was forth coming. After all these years Nadir thought and acted like he was still the chief of police. Seriously, I need find him a pastime or something. He takes everything too seriously.

Not wishing to prolong this any further, I unlocked the door and quietly preceded into the house. As I thought, Nadir was seated in the parlor in front of the fireplace. It appeared as if Nadir had been waiting for me for quite some time for I found him to be asleep in the chair. The candle on the table next to him was almost burnt out. Not wanting to wake him, I crept past the doorway and hung my cloak up on the coat rack on the way to my room.

Locking the door behind me, I placed the the bundle that Madame Giry had given me on the bed. I had debated on whether or not I should get some rest before I attempted to sort through the package. I must admit I was terrified of what I would find. Curiosity getting the better of me, I sat upon the bed. Taking the package, I carefully untied it. The first thing to greet my eyes was the mask I had left behind the night of the fire. I softly ran my fingers over the cold hard edges of the mask. It is so strange that such an insignificant looking thing could hold so much power over my life. My mask, the only constant in my life. From the moment I was born, my world revolved around this one thing. Placing my mask aside I found the ring that Christine had given back to me the night she had broken my heart. The pain to fresh for me to deal with I move on to the next object. I found an old oval two-sided picture frame. Knowing what pictures I would find, I placed the frame upon the bed without looking at it. The last item I found was not what I had expected to find. I had not thought about it for so long. There laying before me, shining in the candlelight was the silver compass that Giovanni had given to me during my apprenticeship. I had made a promise to myself that all I had learned would not be wasted. I had broken that promise, I felt like I had turned my back on the man I had once thought of as a father. Looking at the compass, I knew now where my next step lies. I did not know if Giovanni stilled lived but I needed to go back there and begin facing the demons of my past. Italy seemed as good as any place to start for I had many skeletons in my closet, all waiting to make an appearance.

It looked like my destination was to be Italy after all. Time to wake Nadir, there is much I have to do before I begin.

AN: Thanks to everyone who is reading my story. This is my first story so please review. I would appreciate the advice and encouragement. :)

Erik is off to Italy. Hopefully things will get more interesting for Erik.


	5. Chapter 4: In darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the many adaptations of Phantom of the Opera. The only characters I own are the original characters found in this story.

Chapter 4: In darkness

_"There was so much beauty in your soul, Erik, so much_

_beauty that I fear now, because of one old man's folly,_

_will never see the light of day. In darkness you came_

_to me. And in darkness you left."_

_-Phantom, Susan Kay pg189_

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(Giovanni's point of view)

I woke abruptly from the nightmares that had been plaguing me for months now. It had been years since I dreamed of Luciana's death and Erik's disappearance. It was easier to forget, the pain often was too much to bear. But I could never completely forget the enigmatic young boy that had found a place within my heart. The loss of two children that night had more than I could bear. I had come to think of Erik as a son.

'_Why now' _I thought. '_Why now do I think of such things_.' My thoughts were interrupted by a coughing fit. My years as a stone mason have taken their toll on my body. The dust and grit from working with stone have filled my lungs, making even the simplest task difficult. I know that I do not have much longer in this world. Honestly I thought I should have died years ago but for some reason I found myself to stubborn to die. Lately I found my thoughts turning towards the thing that I regret the most. I regret letting Erik disappear out of my life. Deep down I always knew he would some day leave but I had hoped the parting would be joyful one. I fear so much that the beauty within his soul was extinguished forever that night. The world lost something special that night. I want to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he has so much to offer the world. I do not want to leave this world with any regrets.

Slowly I made my way down stairs and to the kitchen, hoping to get a glass of water. The creaking in my bones and the cough that was ever present made my progress to the kitchen difficult. By the time I reached the kitchen I was out of breath. I had hoped that my midnight trek had not awaken my daughter or her husband. They had come to stay with me while I was in ill health for I had refused to leave this house. But my daughter Angela who was constantly worrying and fussing over me, came hurriedly down the stairs.

"Papa, what are you doing? The doctor told you to stay in bed." She came over to me, intent on guiding me back upstairs.

"Angela, I am just getting some water. I am still perfectly capable of doing that on my own."

"But Papa, you need your rest."

"There will be plenty of time for that later. Now be a dear and fetch me some water." I turned to sit at the table when I noticed the door to the cellar. I never was able to bring myself to go down there after Erik left. It was Erik's and Erik's it would remain. I never changed anything, I simply put a lock on it and left it be. Part of me was hopeful that he would return and our life could return to the way that it was before Luciana destroyed it. I can't really blame her, it was my fault she was as spoiled and over indulged as she was. I was weak-willed when it came to her, never able to refuse her anything. My mistake had cost more than I could have ever dreamed.

I rose from the table and made my way to the cellar door and removed the key from the hook beside the door. The door creaked with age and disuse.

"Papa, what are you doing now? Come away from there. The stairs are too old and unsteady for you." Angela came running over to me. The glass of water now forgotten on the table.

"I intend on going downstairs into the cellar. Now help me down these stairs or go back to bed and leave me be." Sighing, Angela reluctantly took my arm and we made our way downstairs.

Once my eyes adjusted to the candlelight, I looked around the room. Erik's inventions and contraptions lined the shelves now dusty from years of disuse and neglect. The air was musty and everything was covered with a layer of dust. I never really had been down here when Erik lived with me. I gave this room to be his sanctuary, a place of his own where he could feel safe. That is all I ever wanted for him. I knew the night we had met, he never had a place that was safe, a place where he wasn't always looking for danger. Now it was nothing but a reminder to my greatest failure, a monument to the life I had destroyed. If only I could turn back time, only if.

"Papa, what's that noise?" my daughter whispered, the fear evident in her voice. I had forgotten she was in the room with me until she had spoken. I had become lost in my memories.

"What are you talking about Angela?' But as I said it I could hear the faint sounds of the spinet that was in the parlor above us. I never was able to get rid of after Erik left, It would have been a serious crime to him to let in become unplayable. So every year I paid to have it tuned but would not any one play it. It had become Erik's and only he was allowed to play it. Only Erik. Erik! It couldn't be, could it.?

I rushed up the stairs, ignoring the protests from my daughter. Maybe I am becoming delusional in my old age but I had recognized that song whose soft melody was echoing through the house. It was the song Erik had played the first night he stayed under this roof. Stopping in the doorway to the parlor, I could hardly believe my eyes. Before me sitting at the spinet was Erik. Though older, he still had the slight frame he had in his youth. Not wanting to disturb him as he played, I continued to stand in the doorway listening to the beautiful sounds only he seemed capable of eliciting from the old spinet. I had never believed that I would hear those sounds again. As if he could sense my presence in the room, he slowly let the song come to an end, the notes softly disappearing into the night.

Erik slowly turned around and I found myself looking into those same gold eyes but he was no longer the same boy I knew so many years ago. I could tell by the weariness and sorrow in his eyes that neither time nor the world had been kind to him. It pained me to see that. Erik stood up from the bench and took a few steps away from the spinet. For a few moments we did nothing but stare at each other. The ghosts of the past hung heavy in the air between us.

"It has been a long time boy." I said breaking the silence. "We have much to discuss. Help me over to the couch."

"Yes sir." was all he said as he made his way across the room and to my side. In that moment as he took my arm to lead me to the couch, I looked up at him and I could have sworn that I caught a flash of the boy I would have been proud to call my son. It was in this moment that I knew I had been given a second chance to right the wrongs I had done to him.

For in darkness he left and in darkness he returned.

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A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading my story. I hope you like it. It is definitely more difficult than I thought. I will post the next chapter hopefully next weekend. It will be from Erik's point of view.

So please read and review.

Thanks again.


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